


hearts still beating

by thranarwhal



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Bittersweet, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Strong Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:50:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thranarwhal/pseuds/thranarwhal
Summary: Somehow that made it easier. Q could forget occasionally and pretend it was just another dissapearing act. He would tell himself it would be weeks or months, and he would turn up. Just like always.





	

Exasperated, Q sighed heavily through his nose and swiveled in his chair, his face fixing his cat a death glare. 

"Would you please stop whining? Your high pitched squeals won't reach him or bring him back no matter how hard you try." Q said to his cat Elliot. The beast was perched by the door, pawing and yapping in an almost desperate fashion. Q knew why. The cat missed his other human. 

So did Q.

His breath hitched at the thought, and he immediately shoved it down. There was no use going down that road. Instead he focused on what was in front of him. 

"I can't focus with the noise. Please go do it somewhere else." Q told Elliot, as if the cat would understand him and even listen. 

Of course he didn't. He resumed his whining. 

Q looked back at his work longingly. There was always much to do, but it seemed to be thrice in quantity since the incident. He was a workaholic and liked to blow through large unhealthy amounts of work at a time but he couldn't focus, and it seemed as though Elliot was not letting up. He glanced at the clock, noticing the late hour, and decided resistant was futile. 

Shutting off his lamp light, he stood and walked to the door. Elliot reared on his back paws and stretched as far up to the door handle as he could trying his hardest to get out of the room, and Q almost smiled at his attempt. He swooped down to pick up the still mewling cat, burying his nose in the black fur as he opened the door and went down the hall. 

The flat was the same as it had been before. Same furniture, same decor, same feeling of home. It was strange how it could be exactly the same and yet be a foreign place almost. Sometimes Q couldn't get over the fact that the couches only had one person on them, not two. Or that half the dishes appeared in the sink. Or half the laundry. 

Somehow that made it easier. Q could forget occasionally and pretend it was just another dissapearing act. He would tell himself it would be weeks or months, and he would turn up. Just like always. 

But it wasn't like always. 

This time there was a body. It hadn't even been needed to be retrieved from foreign soil. An illness had come over him and he passed in the hands MI6 medical, much to everyone's shock. 

No one was more shocked than Q. Q, who had alerted medical of his declining health. Q, who had been steadfast in getting him the best aid. Q, who had been there for every last breath.

After, there had been silence. Every hall of MI6 felt the loss and for days no one uttered a word. Many were crushed and broken, and the drive of queen and country seemed to be buried along with the stubborn 00. 

Mallory had been absolutely distressed. He, just like the old M, had had an interesting relationship with the senior 00, and had come to respect the man in his own right. Mallory had seen the undying devotion like his predecessor did and used it. But he had cared a great deal for the man despite being an unrelenting boss. 

After the death, he was at a loss. Himself and the rest of MI6 were in shambles, and he didn't know how he could pick up the pieces when he felt as if his heart wasn't into it without that vital part. 

Almost a week of silence and stillness haunted the grounds, and Mallory had contemplated giving in when the most unlikely person stepped up. 

Q. 

Q, who had lost his agent. Q, who had lost his best friend. Q, who had lost his partner. 

Mallory and Moneypenny both had feared the potential of Q's downfall if anything were to happen to the senior 00, and it seemed as if there worst fears would come true that day, but they hadn't. Q had been shocked, had mourned, still had grief, but at the end of that solemn and cold week, it was Q who came in and gave everyone hope. It was Q who went back to work, who helped people have a purpose again. It was Q who kept the devotion to queen and country alive. 

Sometimes Q's voice quavered when referencing a 00 by number. Sometimes Q could be seen taking a deep sigh and wiping a single glistening tear, only to immediately turn and answer any question or do any task needed of him. Sometimes Q left the bunker entirely and took long walks along the streets of London. 

Whatever he needed to do, it was fine. Mallory couldn't ask any more of a man when he had already done too much. He'd done more than anyone else would have done after dealing with a loss as great as his. 

He was much stronger than anyone had given him credit for. 

Q knew his methods for coping weren't exactly good for him. Sometimes he forced himself to forget the death, but other times he spent hours crying and breaking apart his gadgets, only to put them back together after. He had kept everything. He hadn't the heart to get rid of it even though it was a constant reminder. It had been months but he could still smell him everywhere. It was in the bed, in the clothes, in the carpet, in the air. He couldn't escape the man, so he did his best to embrace it. 

Sometimes he could talk about him. Younger minions naively asked how he was doing, if he was fine. He knew they only had their best interests in mind but occasionally it hit too close to a nerve and he had to take a walk and get fresh air. 

The shrinks at MI6 had even tried to have a go at him but they soon realized that Q was bent on still functioning and keep the bunker afloat. If he buried himself slightly more in his work to possibly distract him more, everyone looked the other way. 

Overall it seemed MI6 had dodged a bullet. But the halls were seldom high spirited anymore. That was something that couldn't be replaced. 

 

\-----------------------

 

It was again Thursday afternoon, and Q was seen in the middle of a slightly browning field of grass holding a bouquet of blue flowers. Q always brought bright blue flowers. They reminded him of his eyes. 

Resting against the tombstone was last weeks wilting batch of blue flowers, and Q replaced those with the vibrant new ones. There were other flowers and trinkets placed around his, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. 

He would've curled his lip at the sentimentality, but Q thinks deep down he would have felt greatly appreciated. And he was. As a 00, as a co-worker, and as a force to be reckoned with, he had been appreciated by everyone who had crossed paths with him. 

He had even been loved by many. Was still loved by many. Would always be loved by many. 

"I will see you again, James." Q whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be a happy post long mission reunion fic but....
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment or kudos :)


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